


Bruised Sky

by Juli



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juli/pseuds/Juli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With all the time they spend on the road, especially in the Midwest, it stands to reason that the Winchesters might come across a spot of bad weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruised Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Written/posted July 2008

“Look alive, Sammy.”

Sam came awake with minimal effort. He’d long ago mastered the art of sleeping in the Impala, something that came back to him fairly quickly after rejoining his brother in the family business. Even so, he never slept deeply in the car and so he came awake quickly when Dean called for him, even though he’d been in the midst of a pleasant dream about what they’d done in bed together the night before.

“What’s the matter?” Sam asked as he sat up straight up. He had a crick in his neck from napping with his head lolling and he rubbed it as he waited for Dean to answer.

“Bruised sky,” Dean stated succinctly. 

“Shit,” Sam cursed after a quick glance out the window easily confirmed Dean’s observation. The sky had the greenish hue that often heralded a serious storm. “Where are we?”

“Tazewell County,” Dean answered tersely. “RR 3, headed east, about 100 miles from Bloomington-Normal.”

The amount of detail that Dean knew didn’t surprise Sam. It was the driver’s responsibility; their father had drilled in the necessity of knowing where they were at all times and that had come in handy on more than one occasion. Sam fumbled in the glove box for maps. They’d traveled the Midwest so often that neither brother needed guidance for the main roads, but there were too many smaller routes for either one of them to keep track of.

“We need to get off this road, Sam,” Dean’s voice was tense. “Look west.”

Sam paused in his map search to do as Dean said. The wall cloud formation was paralleling their current heading. There was no rotation yet, but it was probably only a matter of time. Unfortunately, they were on a small rural route. The corn wasn’t high yet, but it came right up to the shoulder. No drainage ditch meant no low ground and, from the look of the sky, the protection that low ground offered was going to be a necessity and soon. Sam turned his attention back to the maps and finally found what he was looking for. He spread the appropriate map out and quickly got down to business.

“All right, got it,” Sam declared after a short study. “The road we’re on terminates at a junction with a freeway in about five miles.”

“We might not have that kind of time,” Dean admitted. “This fucker blew up fast.”

“There,” Sam pointed to a break in the corn ahead. It was well ahead of the turnoff he’d identified on the map, but any port in a storm — literally — would be welcome.

Sam felt the car start to turn as they approached the other road, but at the last minute, Dean jerked the wheel. The Impala shuddered a bit as it righted itself, but Dean got it straightened out and they continued their frantic pace. Sam didn’t need to ask why Dean hadn’t taken the road. Once he got a good look at it, Sam could tell that it wasn’t paved and both Winchesters were too well versed in storm survival techniques to chance it. Rain had started to pelt their car and Sam knew that it was probably just the start of the deluge. A dirt road could turn into a quagmire, stranding them just when speed was what they needed.

Just their luck, the road they were stuck on started curving so that it headed them more into the storm.

“The hell?” Dean muttered. “This is a cluster fuck.”

“We should be reaching that junction,” Sam assured him. “Any minute now.”

“A minute’s about all we’ve got,” Dean responded. “The son of a bitch started rotating. I don’t want to take my baby off the road, but we may have to do some corn diving to find a low spot.” 

The fields weren’t perfectly flat, but had gentle dips in them. It wouldn’t be much protection, but better than nothing if a tornado dropped. Sam gulped, not liking that option at all. He didn’t have quite the emotional attachment to the Impala that Dean did, but the car wasn’t an off-road vehicle and could sustain serious damage in going cross-country. Of course, a tornado could do a lot more.

Thankfully, they finally arrived at the junction, where the road they were on fed into a larger highway. Dean grimly directed the Impala so that they were going perpendicular to the storm, hoping to get further away from it. He gunned the engine to get them up a gentle slope and, once they reached the top, they were met with an unexpected sight.

Wind turbines, as far as the eye could see.

“What sort of moron puts a wind farm this close to Tornado Alley?” Dean growled in frustration. “Getting greedy trying to suck up that kind of wind.”

Sam took a nervous look at the storm. It almost seemed sentient, it was following them so ruthlessly. “Actually, wind turbines generally have an emergency shut-off at 55 miles an hour.”

“Fat lot of good that’ll do us,” Dean retorted, “if one of those blades breaks off. That’s one hell of a missile.”

“The supports are buried in two meters of concrete,” Sam told him. “They’re made out of steel that’s two inches thick and are built to withstand winds of 150 mph.”

Dean turned from the road to gape at him. “You really are a big dork, aren’t you? Who knows that kind of crap?”

“It was for a freshman paper,” Sam muttered. 

The situation was too tense for further sibling bickering. The larger highway did have drainage ditches to either side, but Dean didn’t pull over. The storm wasn’t completely on them yet and, even though wind farms could stretch out for miles, there was hope that they could get clear of the massive turbines before taking shelter became an absolute must.

Driving became increasingly difficult as the wind picked up. Sam could tell it from both the way the car shuddered and from his brother’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. The rain, as expected, was hammering them hard and it’d become dark enough that it was hard to see. Sam kept a wary eye on the storm, Dean needing all of his concentration for keeping the Impala on the road.

“Finally something goes right,” Dean crowed as the number of wind turbines started to thin out. 

“Don’t jinx us,” Sam warned.

Sam was right to be worried. As they left the wind farm behind, debris started flying over the car. Their attempt to outrun the storm was proving futile and taking refuge in the ditch was becoming a necessity. Unfortunately, there was a freeway overpass ahead of them and, from the looks of a number of cars surrounding it, a number of people had already sought shelter there.

“Damn it,” Dean banged on the steering wheel in frustration.

“We can’t leave them there,” Sam stated. 

“I know, I know,” Dean growled.

It was a common mistake to make. In a bad storm, out in the middle of nowhere, a concrete overpass looked like a safe haven. In a lesser storm that might even be the case, but John Winchester had taught his boys well. With as much time as they spent on the road, violent weather was a fact of life and he’d drilled safety measures into his boys. There was no proof that an overpass would offer any safety from a tornado - and Sam had a bad feeling that it was a tornado behind them.

The Impala barreled up to the overpass and Dean expertly wove the car in and around the other vehicles. One of them was a semi, which didn’t make Sam feel any better. Like Dean’s sentiments about the wind turbine blades, the large truck would make one hell of a missile. As they passed underneath the concrete structure, Sam could see the people huddled up on the sides, as far up as they could go. There were about ten or so, from what Sam could see of the pale faces as they rushed by.

As soon as they were clear of the overpass, Dean brought the Impala to an abrupt stop. Sam immediately moved to get out, but a hand on the back of his neck delayed him. He turned to look at his brother, but before he could ask what was wrong, Dean pulled him close for a kiss that was lightning quick, but intense.

“Love you, Sam,” Dean stated as soon as they broke apart. Then, while Sam was still trying to find the words to respond, Dean slapped him on the shoulder. “Now move your bony ass. We got people to save.”

The hail started just as they left the Impala. Neither brother spared the breath for cursing and concentrated on running. As they approached the overpass, they could hear encouragement being called out from the people already there.

“C’mon, you can make it,” a large man shouted at them. He was the stereotype of a long haul trucker, complete with big gut and shabby baseball cap. 

“You can’t stay here,” Sam said as they reached the dubious safety of the overpass. He was breathing hard from the run, but didn’t stop to catch his breath.” It’s not safe.”

‘What do you mean, not safe?” A young woman asked in a tremulous voice. She had a little girl clutched in her arms, the child’s face hidden in the safety of her mother’s neck. “It’s concrete.”

“Lady, there are no sides on it,” Dean pointed out, impatient with the urgency of their situation. “Nothing to stop debris from hitting you and nothing to keep the wind from sucking you right out, like slurping oysters out of a shell.”

“Boy, I been on the road over twenty years,” the truck driver stated belligerently. “In open country like this here, this is as safe as it gets.”

“We have to get lower,” Sam frantically tried to convince them. “Beneath where the debris will be flying. I know it doesn’t seem right, but the ditch out there is a lot safer than under here.”

Sam looked around. There were about ten people huddled up near the top of the overpass. The truck driver, the woman and her child were three. Others included a couple of scared —looking young adults that were about Sam’s age, an older couple and several men who looked like they were business travelers.

None of them appeared to be at all swayed by either Winchester.

“This is a death trap plain and simple,” Dean had to shout to be heard of the increasingly loud sound of the wind and the noise of hail pounding the cars outside the overpass. “You stay here and you might die.”

One of the businessmen shook his head. “We go out there and we will die.”

Suddenly, the sound of the rain and hail ceased. Both brothers turned their heads to look in the direction they’d come from. They could see flashes of blue light close to the ground, power lines being snapped. Above where that was happening, a funnel cloud hovered and was headed their way.

“We don’t have time for this,” Dean snarled.

Sam knew exactly what his brother was going to do, although the hapless young mother was unprepared for it. Dean scrambled up the side of the overpass and snatched the little girl out of the woman’s arms. A couple of the businessmen shouted a protest, but didn’t follow as Dean immediately jumped down and started to run. The woman cried out and staggered to pursue.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean shouted over his shoulder. “The rest of ‘em are adults. Leave them.”

He couldn’t, not without trying one last time. “It’s not safe here,” Sam called out to the others as he moved to follow. “Please come with us.”

The truck driver shouted curses at him and the older couple grabbed on to each other for support. Like the businessmen, however, they didn’t move to leave. The young adults, probably college kids, changed their minds and came after them. Sam shepherded them as they ran out into the storm. 

The rain had temporarily stopped, but the wind was still strong. It was hard to run and their efforts were hampered by more and more debris being carried by the wind. Dean had a head start, but he was sheltering a child in his arms, refusing to give her to her pleading mother. Sam and the college kids caught up to them, the girl of the couple whimpering a constant litany of ‘oh-my-god.’

It was imperative that they get as far away from the vehicles as they could, so Dean didn’t stop as they passed the Impala. The wind became a roar, though, and just when Sam was going to shout at him to take cover, Dean swerved down into a ditch. Sam didn’t waste time looking behind them, he knew it was bad. He just took care of his charges, just as he knew Dean was with his.

“On your belly!” Sam had to scream to the college kids over the roar of the wind. “Cover your head with your arms.”

Sam got into position himself and spared a look at Dean. His brother was lying close and the mother was next to him. Underneath their sheltering bodies was the little girl. As Sam watched, Dean lifted his face to look at him.

Sam mouthed ‘I love you,’ and waited until Dean nodded before he buried his head in his arms and pressed as close to the ground as he could.

And then everything was wind.

He’d always heard that a tornado sounded like a freight train and it was that, but more. It was almost as though it contained the roars of a thousand tigers. Although Sam knew he was still breathing, all he could hear was wind, all he could feel was wind, and even his thoughts were pushed aside by wind. Effectively isolated by the tempest, Sam could only huddle in the ditch and hold on. He was incapable of even praying for it to pass.

After what seemed like an eternity, though, the storm did exactly that.

Sam’s awareness that he was alive returned gradually. Sounds seemed muffled and it was still raining, although not quite as hard. His hands ached and as he lifted himself up, Sam realized that at some point, he’d given up holding them around his head to clutch the ground with a death grip. Laughing softly, he let go, the chunks of sodden turf he’d torn out plopping to the ground.

“Dean, we did it,” Sam turned to his brother. “We made it.”

The woman started to move as Sam watched. “Kristy?” She called to her little girl. The child crawled out from underneath Dean and soon was in her mother’s arms. Both of them cried as they rocked together, headless of the water that now lined the bottom of the ditch.

Dean didn’t move.

“Dean?” 

Sam’s stomach plummeted as he crawled past the mother/daughter pair to check on his brother. Dean didn’t react as Sam fumbled for his neck. There was a strong pulse and Sam sighed out a breath of relief. 

“Let’s see where you’re hurt,” Sam spoke reassuringly, but since Dean was out cold, it was really more for his own benefit than his brother’s. 

As the storm passed, the sky lightened. It was still gray, but there was enough light to determine that there were no broken bones and that Dean hadn’t been skewered by anything. Moving carefully, Sam checked him out more thoroughly. The answer was soon revealed. Dean had a large lump on his temple, probably from being hit by debris.

“Holy shit!”

In his concern for Dean, Sam had forgotten about the college kids. He turned reluctantly from Dean and saw that the boy of the couple was standing. Not only was he standing, he was pointing behind them. 

The direction that the overpass was in.

With a sense of dread, Sam shifted his gaze to the overpass. He blinked, not believing his eyes. The overpass was bisected by the blade of a wind turbine. Of the cars that had been parked around it, not a one remained. Sam got a very bad feeling.

Sam was torn. His brother was wounded, maybe badly, but there were others who might need help too. Sam looked at the woman, but she was still wrapped around her daughter. Of the college kids, at least the guy was up. The girl was still huddled in the ditch.

“Do you have a cell phone?” Sam asked the other man. 

“What?” The guy seemed a little shocky.

Sam got up and took him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. “A cell phone, do you have one?”

“Yeah,” came the response. “Sure.”

“See if you can get a signal,” Sam ordered. He dragged Dean clear of the water that was pooling in the bottom of the ditch. “If you can, call for help. And. . . keep an eye on the rest of them.”

The kid gulped. “What are you gonna do?”

Sam nodded towards the overpass. “Check for other survivors.”

Trying not to think of Dean so silent and still behind him, Sam jogged towards the overpass. As he did, he scanned the corn fields to either side of the road. In the middle of the one on the left was the semi trailer, sticking straight up towards the sky. Of the rig, there was no sign. There was also no sign of the Impala and Sam dreaded breaking the news to Dean almost as much as he dreaded seeing what was under the overpass.

“Hello?” Sam called out as he approached. “Anybody need help in here?”

The turbine blade had impaled the overpass, slicing through it like a knife through butter. Sam gave it as much distance as he could even as he studied it. The blade came down through the road above the overpass and buried itself deep in the ground. It looked like it wouldn’t move, but Sam wouldn’t bet his life on it being structurally sound.

Sam realized that he was spending more time than was strictly necessary assessing the damage caused by the turbine blade. With a sense of dread, he turned his attention to the rest of the overpass. No one answered his repeated calls and Sam made himself climb to the top. He was afraid of what he might find; dead bodies or, worse, parts of dead bodies. What he found was worse yet.

He found nothing.

There were no corpses and no frightened survivors hiding in a corner. There wasn’t even any blood. Either the wind had scoured it clean or the rain had washed it away.

“Damn,” Sam swore softly. “Why didn’t they listen to us?”

The Winchesters were used to not being believed, but that was about supernatural phenomenon. Disbelief in the face of things like ghosts and the like was understandable. Normal, even. Lives being lost over something so mundane as a storm was beyond frustrating.

“WhooHOO!”

The happy cry startled Sam. In his funk, he hadn’t noticed a van pull up to the overpass. The vehicle was top-heavy with scientific equipment and a guy was hanging out of each of the front windows.

“Look at that beauty!” The driver of the van crowed. “This is awesome, gotta be at least an F4 to do that kind of damage.”

Sam didn’t wait for anyone to respond. He climbed down from the side of the overpass and jogged over to the van. “Hey! Do you have a radio in that thing?”

“Whoa,” the driver was surprised by Sam’s sudden appearance. “What?”

“A radio,” Sam repeated. “We have five survivors on the other side of this, including a child and a wounded man. A couple of them are suffering from shock. I need you to call for help and then pull your van around. We’ll use your heater to keep them from getting chilled.”

“Dude, we gotta catch up to the storm,” the man sitting on the passenger side leaned over the driver to address Sam. “We’ll call for help, but then we gotta roll.”

Sam reached in and grabbed the man by the lapels, pulling him relentlessly despite his struggles until the man was almost in the driver’s lap. “People need your help and that’s a hell of lot more important than your infantile storm chasing.”

“Dude, chill out,” the driver tried to placate Sam.

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t in the mood to be placated. 

“People died here, ‘dude,’” Sam retorted sarcastically. “There were half a dozen people trying to shelter under that overpass and now they’re gone. Still think that’s awesome?”

The two men audibly gulped. 

“I’m sorry, man,” the driver was subdued. “We’ll help however we can.”

Sam nodded. “Good. Your van can’t make it through here, you’ll have to go around.” He slapped the side of the van and stepped back. “Hurry.”

As the storm chasers moved to obey, Sam ran as quickly as he could back through the overpass. He tried not to think of how the concrete structure felt a lot like a tomb, instead concentrating on getting back to his brother’s side.

When Sam reached open air again, his eyes automatically went to the group of survivors. The mother and daughter, as well as the young woman, were where he left them, but Dean was obviously awake. In fact, his brother was half sitting up and the young man was staggering away from him, holding his nose.

“Dean!” Sam broke out into a run.

“He hit me!” The college kid complained as Sam approached. “He woke up and I was trying to help him and he hit me.”

Of course he had. Dean had woken up dazed, in pain and surrounded by strangers and whose fault was that? Intellectually, Sam knew that he’d been the only one qualified to look for other survivors, but his heart gave him grief for leaving his brother to wake up alone.

“Back off, I’ll take care of him,” Sam ordered the college kid as he rushed the last few yards. “There’s a van with some guys coming to help, keep an eye out for them.”

Sam didn’t wait to see if his order was followed, he was more interested in Dean. His brother was trying to get up and, from the frantic way he was looking around, Dean was searching for him.

“Dean!” Sam called as he reached for him. 

“S’smmy,” Dean’s words were slurred, but he awkwardly turned towards the sound of Sam’s voice. 

“I’m right here, Dean,” Sam grabbed his brother and Dean collapsed into his arms. “I’m right here.”

Dean looked up into Sam’s face and Sam could see right away that his pupils were uneven. “Y’kay, S’mmy?”

Guilt descended like a hammer. Even as discombobulated as he was, Dean was still more worried about Sam than himself. Intellectually, Sam knew that he’d been the only one with the experience — and stomach - to look for other survivors, but hated that Dean had woken up without him.

“I’m fine,” Sam reassured him. “You’re the one sleeping on the job.”

Dean frowned. “W’happ’ned?”

Sam settled on the ground and pulled Dean close to him. They were both soaked, but Dean was shaking with cold. “A tornado hit us, do you remember?” 

“Lil’girl?” Dean asked, after a moment of thought.

“She’s fine,” Sam told him. “She’s sitting right over there with her mom. Not a scratch on her.”

The van pulled up and, to Sam’s surprise, a state trooper car was right behind it. Sam breathed a sigh of relief; he was more than happy to relinquish the responsibility for their little group. As a Winchester, Sam was used to keeping relative strangers safe, but with Dean hurt, Sam would much rather concentrate on his brother.

“I heard you have someone wounded?” The trooper must have been filled in on the situation by the storm chasers. He first went to the mother and little girl, but once he ascertained that the child was safe and draped his coat over her thin shoulders, moved on to the Winchesters and the college kids.

“Over here,” Sam called out. As the trooper approached, Sam outlined his brother’s condition. “He has a head injury. I don’t think it’s too bad, but he was out for several minutes and now he’s a little confused.”

The trooper nodded, his dark face reflecting his concern. “We have help on the way, but in the meantime, we need to get him out of this rain. You can have the back of my squad or these guys over here offered their van.”

Sam looked over in surprise; he would have expected the storm chasers to be long gone, given that official help had arrived. They appeared sheepish, but were sticking around. Sam considered for a moment, but in the end the choice was easy. Dean wasn’t entirely with it and there was no guarantee that he would understand why he was in the back of a squad car. The potential for a dangerous freak out was too great.

“We’ll take the van, thanks,” Sam nodded. “Just take care of the little girl.”

Moving carefully, Sam slid out from under Dean and helped him to his feet. While the trooper helped the mother and daughter to the squad car, Sam put an arm around his brother’s waist and started guiding him towards the van.

“Need some help, dude?” The driver from the van seemed hesitant as he offered.

“Thanks, but we’re fine,” Sam did not want someone else’s hands on Dean. “He doesn’t like to be touched.”

They hobbled over to the van and the storm chasers followed along.

“We didn’t know people died,” the passenger of the duo claimed. “We wouldn’t have, you know, been acting that way if we’d known.”

If he was looking for absolution from Sam, he wasn’t going to get it. Sam settled Dean into one of the seats in the back. He spared a moment to address the storm chasers, fully prepared to offer a scathing comment, but stopped when he got a good look at their faces. Genuine regret was obvious in their expressions.

“I know you didn’t,” Sam told them. “And it’s great that you’re helping out.”

“Hey, is there room for us?” The college kid had approached. He had an arm around the young woman, who looked almost as dazed as Dean.

It wasn’t Sam’s van and, besides, Dean’s head had started to loll, so Sam left the storm chasers sort it out while he concentrated on his brother. Vaguely, he was aware of the other two getting in and the slow sensation of building warmth as the heater started going full blast. Mostly, however, he was focused on how sluggish Dean was to respond to him.

“Dean?” Sam slapped lightly at his brother’s face. “Come on now, stay with me.”

“T’red, Smmmy,” Dean slurred, face gravitating towards the warmth of Sam’s hand.

“I know, but you have to stay awake,” Sam coaxed him. “Hey, if you keep your eyes open, I’ll tell you about the Impala.”

Even mentioning Dean’s beloved car, however, couldn’t keep him conscious. Despite Sam’s best efforts, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and Sam couldn’t wake him. Determined this time that Dean wouldn’t wake amongst strangers, Sam settled in beside him. The heater was helping, but Sam squeezed himself beside Dean on a seat that was not designed to hold two good-sized men. One of Sam’s cheeks was hanging off the side and his balance was precarious at best, but Sam didn’t care. He pressed close in the hopes that his body warmth would help his brother.

Vaguely, Sam was aware of activity around them, but it wasn’t until he heard the crisp, professional tones of the EMTs’ that he stirred.

“Over here,” Sam directed them. “He’s been in and out of consciousness.” He reluctantly moved to give the woman who clambered into the van closer access to his brother. He watched carefully as she assessed Dean’s condition.

“Did he know where he was and what happened?” She asked as she put fingers to Dean’s neck.

“He was a little confused,” Sam told her. “But it only took a little prompting for him to remember the tornado and then he immediately asked about the little girl he saved.”

“That’s a great sign and, better yet, his pulse is good and there’s no sign of respiratory distress,” she smiled in reassurance at Sam after a few minutes. “Looks like he got a good bang to the head. We’re going to transport him to County General in Bloomington-Normal, but I see no need to airlift him.”

Sam breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I need to go with him. If he wakes up and I’m not there, it won’t be pretty.” The EMT looked prepared to protest, so Sam shot her his most winsome smile, accompanies by what Dean called the ‘puppy dog eyes of persuasion.’ “Besides, our car is nowhere to be found; I don’t have any other way to get to the hospital.”

Dean would have been proud of him; it worked like a charm. The woman visibly melted. “All right, but you have to let us do our job.”

“Absolutely,” Sam spread his hands in capitulation. “I won’t interfere.”

It was hard watching them prepare Dean for transport, complete with a collar for his neck. Both of the EMTs were women and yet they managed to lift Dean onto the gurney and get him in the ambulance without much difficulty. Sam told himself that he’d enjoy teasing Dean about that later. 

Much later.

They were about five minutes into the ride when Dean woke up. “Smmmy?”

Sam leaned forward so that he was in his brother’s line of sight. “Right here, Dean. We’re on the way to the hospital.”

Dean blinked and made an effort to shake his head. “No h’spital.”

“Yes, hospital,” Sam responded in a firm voice. “You passed out twice, Dean. You’re going.”

“Bitch.”

It figured that was the one word that Dean was able to utter clearly and without slurring. Sam grinned, seeing it as a sign that his brother was feeling better.

“Yeah, well, just lay back and enjoy the ride,” Sam advised Dean. “This nice lady is taking good care of you.”

The EMT who was in the back with them smiled at Sam and then turned her attention to Dean, asking him questions while continuing to monitor his condition. Dean responded well enough, his speech becoming much clearer as the minutes passed, but his eyes remained mostly on Sam.

It didn’t take them long to reach Bloomington-Normal, their desperate race to get ahead of the storm had brought them a lot closer than Sam had realized. The EMTs unloaded Dean’s gurney and wheeled it inside, while Sam hovered and tried to keep his promise not to interfere. When he moved to accompany Dean into the treatment room, however, the second EMT moved to stop him.

“Sir, you should get checked over yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Sam tried to wave her off.

“You’re bleeding,” she pointed out, gesturing towards his neck.

Sam put his hand up and touched his skin, surprised to find that his fingers came away tacky from semi-dried blood. “It’s just a scratch,” he dismissed his injury, entering the treatment area that Dean had been placed in.

“Go, get checked out” Dean ordered. “If you won’t, I won’t either.”

Their eyes locked, but it didn’t take long for Sam to sigh and back down. Dean wasn’t bluffing and Sam damn well knew it.

“All right,” he conceded. “But I’m coming right back here and if they find anything seriously wrong with you, I better be notified ASAP.”

“You mean, more wrong than normal?” Dean smirked and Sam felt a tiny bit better. If Dean was feeling good enough to be a pain in the ass, then his condition had improved.

“No comment,” Sam told him. He reluctantly started to leave, then stepped back as he remembered something. “I better get your wallet, so I can do the insurance paperwork.”

Dean lifted up slightly and Sam reached in Dean’s back pocket to get his wallet, very aware of the medical personnel in the room. He frowned, though, at what he felt. Sam did not like how wet his brother was or how clammy Dean’s skin felt.

“Sammy,” Dean said hoarsely, sensitive to Sam’s distress. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “You better be.” Suddenly a lot less shy, he leaned forward for a quick kiss. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Trying not to look back, Sam let himself be led to another ER cubicle. Once there, he was asked a battery of questions about any pain he felt, etc. To his relief, Sam was told to strip out of his wet clothes and put on a hospital gown. Even one of those drafty things, which he normally hated, was more comfortable than wearing soaked garments.

While Sam waited for the doctor, he filled out the paperwork he’d been left. Luckily, they were using fake IDs that had matching insurance cards — and they had different last names. That was fortunate, given how the kiss that Sam had given Dean would make it hard to identify themselves as brothers.

In a shorter amount of time than Sam would have thought, given the relatively minor nature of his injuries, the doctor came in.

“And how are you feeling, Mr. Bachman? My name is Doctor Kennedy.” The kindly-looking older man introduced himself as he shook Sam’s hand. “I understand you had quite a scare today.”

“I’m a little water-logged, but I think I’m all right,” Sam responded, feeling stupid for being there. Dean was the one hurt.

“Well, let me be the judge of that,” Dr. Kennedy chastised him. “After all, that’s what they’re paying me the big bucks for.”

The exam didn’t take long and Sam was proven to be mostly right. The cut on his neck didn’t need stitches and no significant injuries were discovered. As the doctor poked and prodded him, though, Sam realized that he was covered in bruises. In the adrenaline rush of fear, he hadn’t even realized he’d been battered by debris.

The doctor sat on the desk chair. “You’re going to be very sore tomorrow, but I can find no legitimate reason to keep you overnight. I’d say you were a very lucky young man.”

Sam sighed, remembering the people who wouldn’t leave the overpass and who were now probably dead. “Yeah, I know.”

“I understand that your. . . partner,” the doctor struggled to find the right word to describe Sam’s relationship to Dean, “was more injured?”

“Yes, he got hit on the head and passed out a couple of times,” Sam explained. “Do you know how he is?”

“I’ll have a nurse check and see,” Dr. Kennedy stood. “And I’ll see if we’ve got some sample packets around here of muscle relaxants and pain killers. Once those bruises of yours have a chance to stiffen up, you’re going to be miserable.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Sam smiled in gratitude. He was no stranger to bruises, but with the Impala missing, no longer had access to their stash of purloined medication.

After the doctor shook his hand and left, Sam finished up the insurance paperwork. He wasn’t too concerned with accuracy; they’d be long gone before anyone verified it. He was sitting on the side of the exam bed, considering his pile of wet clothes, when a nurse about ten years older than he was walked into the room.

“Mr. Bachman? I understand you won’t be staying with us.”

“No,” Sam told her, handing her the paperwork.

She looked at where his clothes were on the floor, slowly but surely causing a puddle. The jeans and shirts were so wet that Sam’d felt guilty about putting them on the chair in the room, even if it was plastic.

“You came in with someone else, right?” She asked him after a moment of thought. “And he’s still being examined?”

“That’s right,” Sam answered. “Dean Turner. I really need to get back to him.”

“I think they took him down to X-ray; you’ve got a little time.” She grinned at him suddenly. “Actually, you’ve probably got a whole lot of time, there’s quite the backlog down there right now. I tell you what, a friend of mine works over in housekeeping. I’m going to take your clothes down there and have her sneak them in the dryer. That is, if they can be dried?”

“That’d be great,” Sam was deeply grateful. He’d dreaded getting back into those cold, wet things. “Everything we own was in our car and it’s gone. I have no idea when or if it’ll be found.”

“You poor thing,” she patted him on the arm. “And after you saved all those people.”

Sam shrugged. “We just knew the overpass wasn’t safe. Couldn’t leave them there, knowing that, could we?” His face fell and he couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. “Besides, we didn’t save all the people anyway.”

“Hey, Sam, is it?” The nurse put a hand on his shoulder. “If there’s one thing you learn in my job, it’s that you can’t save everybody.” Sam looked up and saw that she was smiling in sympathy. “It hurts, but all you can do is your best. Try and remember that, okay?”

Sam nodded, realizing she was right. It made him feel better, even if only a little bit.

She patted his knee. “All right. I’d offer to loan you some scrubs while your clothes dry, but I doubt we have any long enough.” She grinned. “Your parents know how to grow ‘em big, that’s for sure. You’ll just have to endure that hospital gown for a little bit longer.”

While the nurse, whose nametag indicated her name was Heidi, talked, she got Sam a robe that matched his gown, gathered up his clothes, and gave him a bag for the stuff he’d kept in his pockets. Afterwards, Heidi directed him back to the cubicle that Dean had been in. His brother wasn’t there, but the nurse told him that Sam could wait there for him until it was decided if Dean was going to be admitted or not. The room seemed empty without the exam bed; they must have used it to take Dean to his test.

“I might as well have his clothes dried too,” she stooped to pick up Dean’s things off the floor. “I’ll warn you that our machines run pretty hot. Hope nothing shrinks.”

Sam shrugged. Between Laundromats and using motel coin-operated machines, the Winchesters’ clothes were used to being tortured. “It’ll be fine, thanks. Like I said, neither one of us has anything to change in to, so we really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem,” she assured him. “I know Dr. Kennedy was working on getting you some sample meds too. I’ll have them sent here when he sorts them out.” Nurse Heidi smiled at him one more time before leaving. “I’m sure your friend will be just fine.”

After the nurse left, there wasn’t a lot for Sam to do. With Dean’s clothing gone, there wasn’t anything of his brother left in the room and Sam had an irrational wish that he could have seen Dean again before they had sent him for X-rays.

“Excuse me, are you Sam?”

There was a state trooper at the door, a different one that had been on the scene. This guy was about the same age as Nurse Heidi and had the largest set of ears that Sam had ever seen.

“Yeah, I’m Sam Bachman,” Sam finally replied, realizing the trooper had asked him a question. “I’m sorry, I’m a little out of it.”

“Yes, sir, I can understand that,” the trooper came into the exam room. Sam was on the room’s lone plastic chair, so the trooper swung the wheeled desk chair over so that he was sitting opposite from Sam. “My name is Bill Townson. I understand from my fellow officer that you can fill me in on some of the details about what happened at the overpass. We have some people missing.”

“I’ll tell you what I can,” Sam offered. “But it’s not much, really.”

Without further introduction, Sam launched into an account of what had happened, downplaying Dean grabbing the little girl and taking off with her. Considering how things had turned out, Sam didn’t think his brother would get into trouble for it, but wasn’t going to risk telling anyone in a position of authority. When he wound down, the trooper looked at him seriously.

“You did the right thing, son,” Officer Townson assured him. “You and Mr. Turner did the right thing. It’s not your fault that those other people didn’t believe you. They’re responsible for their own actions, not you.”

Sam shrugged. “Thanks.”

Seeming to realize that Sam’s sense of responsibility wouldn’t be assuaged so easily, the trooper let the matter drop. “The other witnesses were pretty shook up. They could tell us that there are people missing, but not much about them.”

“I only spoke with the others for a moment,” Sam indicated. “I don’t know that I can tell you much about them either.”

“Anything you can remember will help,” Townson told him, flipping open a small notebook. “We know we have multiple people unaccounted for, but with the cars being gone too, we don’t have much information to go on. If worst comes to worst, we’d like to be able to notify their families. Anything you can tell me will help us do that.”

“Okay,” Sam took a deep breath and, half closing his eyes, sent his thoughts back to those desperate few minutes at the overpass. “Truck driver. Six feet tall, maybe 275 pounds. Shoulder-length brown hair, jeans, gray t-shirt, black leather vest, blue baseball cap. Spoke with a southern accent, a twangy one.”

Sam paused. The truck driver had been the easy one. “Older couple, mid-70s maybe. The woman wore her hair in a bun and had a blue cardigan over a floral print blouse. The man had glasses and was wearing khakis. His polo shirt had some sort of emblem on it, maybe having to do with golf. Three business guys. First guy was blond, 40s, blue suit with a red tie. Second guy was black, bald, mid-30s, black dress pants and white shirt, no tie. Third guy was 40s, Dockers with a green plaid shirt, red hair.”

When he finally opened his eyes all the way, Sam saw that the trooper was looking at him with respect. 

“Son, that’s pretty good for no more time than you spent with them,” the trooper told him. “Have you ever considered a career in law enforcement?”

Not damn likely.

“No,” Sam admitted. “But I was thinking of going to law school.”

The trooper grimaced. “Observation skills like yours, the police side of the law might be a better fit.”

Sam smiled, filing the comment away to share with Dean later. They’d both get a laugh. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“What kind of car were you and your friend driving?” Townson asked. “I can’t promise much, but we can have all of our personnel in the area keep an eye out for it.”

For a brief moment, Sam considered lying. The Impala was carrying all of their fake identifications, not to mention their weapon cache. If found by the wrong people, it could raise the type of questions that the Winchesters couldn’t afford to answer. The prudent thing to do would be to claim a different type of car and hope that they could locate the Impala later. Sam just couldn’t do it, though. Dean loved that car and if there was the tiniest chance of finding it, then Sam just had to grasp at it.

“1967 Chevy Impala,” Sam described it to the trooper. “Black.”

Townson whistled in appreciation. “Nice ride. I’ll pass the word; it’d be a real shame to lose a car like that.” He took a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Sam. “This is how you can reach me, if you or Mr. Turner remember anything else or if there’s anything you need.”

Sam took the card and stared at it without really seeing it. “What were there names? The other survivors, I mean?”

“The little girl’s Kristy Brown and her mama is Megan,” Townson flipped his notebook open again. “The other two were Sean Michaels and Sarah Parks.”

“Thanks,” Sam told him. He didn’t know why it had been important to know the names of the people they’d saved; maybe because they’d probably never know the names of the people they hadn’t.

After promising the trooper that he and Dean would keep him informed if they left the hospital, so that Townson could notify them if the Impala had been found or if the state police had further questions, Sam bid the trooper farewell and felt a lot better once the man was gone. Sam had impersonated too many law enforcement personnel to be truly comfortable around the real kind.

It seemed like forever before Dean was wheeled back in. It was a huge relief to see him, even if Dean looked pale.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked, anxious, after the nurse left.

“Well, my brains aren’t oozing out my ears and I didn’t yack on anyone,” Dean replied. From the way he was squinting at the lights, he had one hell of a headache. “I’m peachy keen fine. Let’s blow this joint.”

It was a little too easy to hold Dean down. “No.”

“Come on, Sammy, this is crap,” Dean griped. “I don’t need to be here.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “You were in La-La Land, Dean, twice. I do not want to see you passing out again.”

“So, don’t watch,” Dean growled.

“You’re staying put until we talk to the doctor about your X-ray,” Sam told him. Something occurred to him and he grinned smugly. “Besides, you don’t have any clothes.”

“Sure I do. They’re wet, but I won’t melt,” Dean looked to where his clothes had been and his face became dismayed when he realized that they were gone. “What the hell did you do, Sam?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Sam told him primly. “A nurse took them to have them dried for you. Unless you want to strut down the hall with your ass hanging out, you’re staying right where you are.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean said, but there was no heat in it. He closed his eyes and laid back against the pillow.

Sam immediately felt guilty. Not for giving in, but for feeling superior about winning the fight. “Your head hurt?”

“A little,” Dean admitted. Which, Sam figured, meant that it had to be hurting bad enough to blow off.

“I’ll see if I can find a way to dim the lights.” ER rooms were fairly standard and it only took a little experimentation to bring the light level down. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks, Sammy.” Dean cracked one eye open. “You wanna tell me why you’re wearing a miniskirt?”

The hospital gown and robe Sam had on were meant for a shorter person and did come up a little higher than Sam would have liked. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have the legs to pull this look off.”

Dean snorted at the lame joke. “Just be careful, Sam, or your Johnson’ll be swinging out for the world to see.”

“I can’t help it if I’m big, everywhere” Sam bragged, even though he didn’t really feel like it. Banter was the Winchester way for dealing with stress. 

The statement didn’t get the response Sam had expected. Instead of accusing Sam of exaggerating, Dean closed his eyes. “They died, didn’t they?” When Sam didn’t answer, Dean opened his eyes and looked at him solemnly. “The people who wouldn’t leave the overpass. They died.”

“Yeah,” Sam couldn’t deny it, so didn’t try.

Dean nodded and immediately winced when the movement hurt his head. “When I was down in X-ray, I heard someone say we were heroes because we saved some people. Figured that meant the rest of them didn’t make it.”

Sam lowered the side rail on Dean’s bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “Officially, they’re missing. They overpass was scoured clean. No blood; no nothing.” He grimaced. “Except for a turbine blade impaling it.”

“Man, I knew those things were bad news,” Dean said. “Must have been one hell of a blow out.”

“Do you remember the storm chasers?” Sam asked. Dean looked confused, so he explained. “They loaned us their van to sit in until the ambulance came.”

Dean frowned. “Why did we need to borrow someone’s van, Sam? What happened to my car?”

Sam sighed. He’d been dreading this. “I don’t know, Dean.”

“You don’t know?” Dean demanded, getting worked up. “How the hell can you not know?”

“It’s gone, Dean,” Sam told his brother. “Just like the people from the overpass. Just plain. . . . gone. I asked the state police to look for it, though.”

Dean blinked rapidly. “Damn.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said quietly. He knew how much his brother loved that car. With their father still hiding himself from them, the Impala was Dean’s only link to the man, so it was a double whammy.

“I think,” Dean had to stop and clear his throat. “Having a tornado take her out, it’s kind of fitting, you know. The Impala’s one bad ass car, it’s a better way for her to go out than being rear-ended by a Prius or something.”

Sam didn’t know what else to say to make it better. He just sat by his brother, keeping his hand close to Dean’s. A few minutes later the doctor found them that way when she came in.

“Mr. Turner,” the woman announced as she entered the room. “I have the results of your X-rays.”

“That was fast,” Sam commented. When she arched her eyebrows at him, he shrugged. “I’m used to hospitals being a lot slower, not that I’m complaining.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, well, we don’t often get tornado survivors here, especially not heroic ones.” She held out her hand. “You must be Mr. Bachman.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam shook her hand, not surprised to find she had a firm grip.

“I’m Dr. Novelle and I’m sure that Mr. Turner would like to hear the results.”

“Yes,” Dean commented from the bed. “Mr. Turner certainly would.”

There was a lightbox on the wall and Dr. Novelle turned it on. She made short work of taking films out of the envelope and placing them so that the light revealed what the X-ray had made an image of. Sam studied them, but couldn’t see anything abnormal. Not that he was a doctor, but he’d seen plenty of X-rays in his lifetime to know how to look for a break or a crack.

“I’m very pleased with what we found,” Dr. Novelle explained. “Or, rather, what we didn’t find. There is no skull fracture and no sign of blood pooling in the brain.”

Dean made a pleased noise. “Then I’m good to go.”

The doctor turned to give him a firm glance. “I didn’t say that, Mr. Turner. While your X-rays are encouraging, it concerns me that you lost consciousness twice and for more than a moment or two. I think it’s prudent to keep you overnight for observation.”

“Nope,” Dean shook his head, but from the way he abruptly aborted the motion, it must have been bothering him. “Not gonna happen.”

“Dean, you’re staying,” Sam stated. Dean glared at him, but Sam was determined that this would be a fight he’d win. “Where are we going to go? Everything was in the car and the car is God knows where. We don’t even have clothes right now. Stay here tonight; at least there’s a warm bed.” Seeing that Dean was adamant, Sam pulled out the big gun. “And I won’t worry about you so much if you’re here, where there are doctors nearby. If we go to a hotel or something, no way would I be able to sleep, I’d be too nervous that you were slipping back into a coma.”

“Fine,” Dean capitulated, but not gracefully. “Just for tonight, though.”

“I’m sure that will be all that’s necessary,” Dr. Novelle hesitated. “The storm left you with nothing? I wasn’t aware that your situation was quite that dire.”

“We’re spending the summer traveling the country,” Sam explained. “We were just passing through town. Everything we owned was in the car. Maybe it’ll turn up.”

Dr. Novelle nodded, as though coming to a decision. “We’ll see what we can do. For tonight, at least, I can promise you both a warm bed and hot food, although I won’t vouch for the quality of the meal.”

“That’s great, thanks,” Sam tried to be gracious. Winchesters weren’t comfortable with handouts.

The doctor left and Dean turned his full glare on his brother. “That was totally lame, dude. I don’t need to stay in here; let’s go.”

Sam had about had it with his brother’s stoic routine. “For the last time, you lost consciousness — twice. You don’t remember the turbine impaling the overpass, you don’t remember the van and you sure as hell don’t remember the two women carrying you into the ambulance.”

“Two chicks carried me?” Dean scoffed. “No way.”

“Way,” Sam disagreed. He decided to try another tactic to persuade Dean that a night in the hospital was a good idea. “Besides, this way, we get free room and board for a night.”

“Hospital food sucks,” Dean complained. “We can find a motel.”

“And get there, how?” Sam demanded. “Walk? We don’t know how close one is to the hospital. I don’t care how macho you are, wandering around town on foot with a concussion is a Very. Bad. Idea.”

“Just because you’re wearing a dress, doesn’t mean you have to act like a girl,” Dean deadpanned. 

“Look, let’s just stay here tonight and tomorrow we’ll go looking for the Impala,” Sam implored, although he wasn’t sure how they were going to accomplish a search for the car.

Dean sighed. “All right.”

It was a good thing that Dean capitulated when he did, because a nurse came in to transfer him to a room. It was a male nurse this time, who had no trouble handling Dean’s rolling bed. Sam trailed along afterwards and soon Dean was settled into his room.

“Hey, why don’t you take a nap?” Sam suggested as he noticed Dean’s eyes were getting heavy. The nurse had already explained that they’d be taking Dean’s vitals every couple of hours. He brushed his hand along the top of Dean’s head. “I think you’ve got a some time before they bring dinner.”

“What about you?” Dean asked. There was only one bed in the room. Even if Sam had been willing to share in such a public place, there was no way that both of them would fit.

Sam shrugged. “They said they’d bring a cot up for me later. Right now, I’ve got a phone call to make.”

Dean’s eyes had started to shut, but he came wide awake at Sam’s comment. “Not Dad.”

“No,” Sam agreed. “Not Dad.”

He waited until Dean had fallen asleep before digging a cell phone out Dean’s bag. Taking it out to the lounge area, Sam scrolled through Dean’s contacts before he came to a familiar name. He hadn’t been lying to Dean; he had no intention of calling their father. If their dad hadn’t come when Dean was dying from the cardiac damage caused by being electrocuted, then he wouldn’t come for something as minor as a close call with a tornado.

Sam considered calling Pastor Jim, but with possibly needing a new car, there was someone more suited to their current situation. 

“Bobby,” Sam said into the phone after it was answered on the other end.

“Sam Winchester?” Bobby sounded surprised. “Been a long time, son.”

“Yeah, it has,” Sam agreed. It was the first time he’d spoken to Bobby since leaving for Stanford and he felt very awkward.

“Everything okay?” Bobby asked. “Last I heard, you were back hunting with your brother. Is Dean all right?”

“Well, about that,” Sam said, scratching at his head. “Dean’s in the hospital, but he’s going to be okay. Just a concussion.”

Sam could hear Bobby snort. “Of course he’s going to be okay. That boy’s got a head as hard as a rock. If he’s okay, though, what’re you callin’ me for?”

It wasn’t meant to be rude and Sam didn’t take it as such. Bobby knew the Winchesters well enough to know that Sam wasn’t likely to call just to chat.

“The Impala got blown away by a tornado,” Sam stated bluntly.

There was a brief silence. “Well, damn, that’s not somethin’ you hear everyday. You sure you boys are all right?”

“We’re fine,” Sam assured him. “But we might need a new car.”

“If I leave tonight, I can be there by lunchtime,” Bobby immediately offered. “Bring you back here, let Dean have his pick of the heaps around in the scrap yard. Even help him fix it up.”

“That’s real nice of you, Bobby,” Sam thanked him. “But maybe we should just find our own way there.”

“You are not hitching,” Bobby stated flatly. “And I don’t know about you, but I cannot see Dean Winchester on a bus.”

Sam chuckled at the image that provoked. “No, I think we need to stick around here for a day or two, see if the Impala shows up. Maybe after that.”

“You just say the word, Sam, and I’m there,” Bobby told him. 

“Thanks, Bobby,” Sam replied. “I’ll let you know.”

“You do that and you take care of that brother of yours,” Bobby instructed, hanging up without saying goodbye.

Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had a bit of a headache of his own and it wasn’t entirely physical. Losing Jessica had hurt like hell, but it wasn’t until he and Dean had become lovers that Sam realized she’d only been a substitute. Her death still hurt and Sam still was eager to avenge her, but loving Dean had blunted his grief. And now, thanks to a rawhead and a tornado, he’d almost lost Dean twice in as many months. It was hard on the nerves.

After pulling himself together, Sam went back to Dean’s room. Dean was still asleep and didn’t wake as Sam gently kissed his temple before sitting in one of the chairs. Thankfully, it was moderately more comfortable than the plastic ones in the ER area had been. A little while later, the nurse named Heidi had tiptoed in, dropping off their clean clothes. She waved off Sam’s whispered thanks and left with a smile. Sam briefly thought of changing into his jeans, but decided since he was spending the night too, it was just a waste of time.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. The hospital food wasn’t quite as bad as they’d been warned, although Dean tried to blame it for his appetite being off. Sam wasn’t unduly worried, knowing how his brother reacted to a head wound. Meals had been brought for both of them, so Sam just ate his own and what Dean didn’t finish of his. A cot had been brought shortly after and, despite how early it was, Sam fell into it and soon both Winchesters were sound asleep.

As promised, the nursing staff checked on Dean around the clock, waking him and making sure he was coherent. Dean, understandably, began to get crabby after the first couple of times. Sam woke whenever a nurse entered the room and listened to their round of questions.

Did Dean know his name? Yes.

Did Dean know where he was? Yes.

Did Dean know what year it was? Yes.

Did Dean know who the president was? 

That was the point where Dean lost patience and his answers got increasingly creative as the night went on. The first time, when Dean had answered with Charlie Brown, Sam had been concerned, but then he realized that Dean was just yanking the night nurse’s chain. Luckily, she had a pretty good sense of humor. Batman got a smile; George Clooney got a murmur of “I wish’ and Richard Simmons got a threat of receiving a sponge bath from a nursing assistant named Bubba. Sam snickered at the speed with which Dean had come up with the proper answer.

By morning, both brothers were bleary-eyed. Since it was obvious that Dean wasn’t in any danger of lapsing into a coma, Sam felt a little silly for forcing the issue, but wasn’t about to admit that to Dean.

“Good morning,” Sam got up from the cot and stretched, groaning as his bruised muscles protested the movement. Dr. Kennedy had been right, he was stiff and it hurt like a bitch. He still managed to walk the couple of steps to Dean and kissed him briefly.

“What’s good about it?” Dean complained. “You can’t sleep in a hospital; it’s surprising more people don’t die in them.”

Sam kissed him again. “Good morning.”

Dean pulled Sam close as his brother started to pull away, kissing him again before letting Sam go. “Good morning. Hate not sleeping with you.”

“Yeah, well, you were already giving the nurses one hell of a show,” Sam teased. “But, dude, Richard Simmons? What were you thinking?”

“It was the ass end of the night and I was getting tired of getting woke up,” Dean defended himself. “Besides, it’s been years since Nixon was in office; we need another Dick as president.”

Sam was just thinking of kissing Dean again when a nurse came in. The shift must have changed, because it was a different one than the nurse that had been in to do the checks overnight. This nurse simply introduced herself and started to take Dean’s vitals without the interrogation.

“What? No twenty questions?”” Dean sounded so disappointed that Sam almost shuddered to think of what kind of answers he’d come with and was eager to use. 

She dimpled. “Oh, I’ve been warned about you, Mr. Turner. And I’ve been told to tell you that Bubba keeps the bath water downright chilly.”

Sam smothered a snicker. It wasn’t too often that Dean was outmaneuvered. 

“Breakfast will be along shortly,” the nurse explained. “But I have to tell you that there are some reporters downstairs in the lobby. They were hoping to interview you about what happened with the tornado.”

The brother’s exchanged glances, but didn’t really need to confer to know what their answer was to that.

“No,” Sam said firmly. “No interviews.”

“I’m far too traumatized to talk to the press,” Dean added, although he definitely looked better than he had the night before.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep them away,” the nurse assured him. “You two just rest.”

Much to Dean’s disgust, Sam got dressed. Since Dean had yet to be discharged, he was stuck in a hospital gown. Worse yet, when their food arrived, it was oatmeal.

“I am not eating this slop again,” Dean started to get out of bed. “First they don’t let you sleep and then they feed you crap. I gotta tell you, Sammy, hospitals will kill you.”

Sam tried to soothe him. “I’ll go down to the cafeteria and bring you something back.”

“You think that’ll be any better?” Dean asked. “It’ll just be more of the same sh-. . . uh, hello.”

Seeing that Dean was looking behind him, Sam turned and found a woman standing in Dean’s doorway, carrying a container of something. She looked vaguely familiar, but Sam didn’t recognize her until a little girl peeked from behind her.

“Am I disturbing you?” The woman asked. Sam remembered that the trooper said her name was Megan. “They said I could come in, as long as I wasn’t a reporter.”

“Sure,” Dean looked uncomfortable, but waved them in anyway.

“Hey, we’re glad your okay,” Sam shuffled his feet.

Megan blinked rapidly. “Oh crap, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.” She shifted her grip on the pan she was carrying to one hand and took her daughter by the other. “I wanted to come and say thank you for what you did yesterday.”

Dean shrugged. “I’m sorry it got so rough, but there wasn’t a lot of time.”

“Don’t you apologize,” Megan chastised firmly. “If you hadn’t taken Kristy and gotten her out of there, well, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It was a big wind,” Kristy pressed herself close to her mother. She looked to be about four years old. “It was loud and scary.”

“It sure was, darlin’,” Dean agreed. “I was so scared that I just about wet my pants.”

Megan looked a little startled at his comment, but then gave Dean a watery smile as his claim made her daughter giggle. Sam grinned at the young mother. “He’s really just a big kid himself.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Megan exclaimed. “Thank God for both of you.” The brothers looked at each other awkwardly. “I couldn’t sleep last night, especially after hearing what happened to those poor people in the overpass and thinking what might have happened. Kristy’s father isn’t around anymore and she’s all I have. So, it sounds silly, but I couldn’t think of a way to thank you, really thank you, so I baked you a cobbler. Blackberry.”

The woman had been talking so fast that Sam almost couldn’t follow her words. Dean appeared to be in a similar state until Megan stepped forward and handed Dean the pan. He lifted it up and took a deep sniff. 

“Silly, right?” She laughed nervously. “Like you can really thank someone for your daughter’s life by baking them a cobbler.”

“There’s nothing silly about cobbler.” Dean assured her.

Megan looked at Dean askance, like she was afraid he was laughing at her. Sam knew differently. “That wasn’t necessary, but thanks. We’re just glad we were at the right place at the right time.”

After a few more babbled words of thanks and awkward silences from the Winchesters, little Kristy started to get antsy. Megan picked up her little girl and had Kristy give them each a kiss. Both brothers blushed and stammered goodbyes, relieved when they left.

“Hot damn, Sammy,” Dean crowed with delight when the two were finally gone. “Cobbler for breakfast.”

“Dean, that’s not very healthy,” Sam chided him even as he was searching their abandoned breakfast trays for silverware.

“The only thing better than pie is cobbler,” Dean eagerly took the spoon Sam handed him and dug right in without cutting out a piece. He gave a pleased murmur as he took his first bite. “Things around here are looking up.”

Sam took time to turn on the television before digging in himself. He found some local coverage and watched as they ate their unhealthy, but admittedly satisfying, breakfast.

“Tazwell County is cleaning up after tornado touchdown yesterday afternoon,” the reporter on the screen was saying. “The National Weather Service has yet to indicate the size of the tornado, but a touchdown has been confirmed. There are at least six people missing, all of whom had taken dubious shelter underneath a freeway overpass.”

The camera went from the reporter to a shot of the turbine stuck through the overpass. Dean, who hadn’t been very aware of his surroundings after the tornado, whistled at the sight.

“Shit, Sam,” Dean commented. “We survived that?”

“We sure as hell did,” Sam murmured. He exchanged a quick blackberry flavored kiss with Dean.

“Damage in the tri-county area is estimated to be in the millions,” the reported continued. “The destruction is almost capricious. In some areas, whole farms and homes have been destroyed, whereas other property is left virtually untouched.”

Images from footage taken at other areas started flowing across the screen. There were shots of several buildings that were missing roofs or whole sides, as well as many examples of downed trees. More importantly to the Winchesters, though, there was also the shot of a familiar black car perched majestically on top of a flattened pool hall.

“WhooHOO!” Dean yelled, not caring that he was in the hospital. “That’s my baby!”

Sam was every bit as happy. Not just for the discovery of the Impala, but at his brother’s joy at seeing it. It was hard to tell from the report, but the car appeared to be largely undamaged.

“I’ll call Trooper Townson,” Sam stated, already reaching for his phone. “Maybe he can find someone to drive me there and pick her up.”

It wasn’t quite that easy. Between reaching the trooper and getting Dean out of the hospital, it took most of the day. Eventually, though, the Winchesters were reunited with Dean’s beloved Impala. The car had sustained a few dents and sported new scratches, but she ran and that’s all that mattered to Dean.

“Listen to that,” Dean’s grin was huge when the car started right up. The keys had still been in it. “Still purring like a kitten. Can this car take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’ or what?”

Trooper Townson looked tired, but seemed genuinely pleased for them. The search for the overpass victims was not going well. So far, one body had been discovered, the older gentleman had been located floating in a pond, but there was no sign of the other five. Helping two men get their car back was minor in comparison, but the beleaguered man clearly enjoyed even a small victory.

“You’ll stay in touch, right?” Trooper Townson asked as they checked the Impala out.

Sam felt bad. They’d given the trooper bogus phone numbers and an address that didn’t exist, but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, he and Dean had no other information that would help the search for the missing people anyway.

“Sure,” he lied as he shook the older man’s hand. “Good luck and thanks.”

“It was no trouble,” Townson replied. After Sam had called him, Townson had arranged to have the Impala taken to the hospital. To the Winchesters’ relief, it had been towed and no one had been in the car. “Drive safe.”

They waited until the trooper was gone before checking out the trunk. Both brothers gave a huge sigh of relief when they realized that nothing had been disturbed. They’d thought that their weapons hadn’t been discovered by the way that Townson remained so friendly, but it was a good thing to confirm.

When the trunk was shut, Dean automatically moved towards the driver’s side, but Sam stopped him by grabbing Dean by the arm. “No way are you driving.”

“The hell?” Dean protested. His hands couldn’t seem to stop stroking the Impala’s side. “Dr. Novelle gave me a clean bill of health before she kicked me out.”

“Dr. Novelle said you were to take it easy for a couple of weeks,” Sam corrected him. “You’re going to be prone to headaches for a while and if you get dizzy or the headaches get too bad, you have to go back to a doctor.”

Dean glared at him. “You’re going to whine the whole time if I don’t let you drive, aren’t you.”

“Damn right I am,” Sam shot back. “You’re shotgun or we’re staying put and you can let those reporters catch up to you.”

He muttered under his breath, but Dean moved to the other side of the car. Sam got in, hiding his wince. His bruises did not like the idea of being in a car all day, but Sam was as eager to get out of town as Dean was. They’d take the drive to Bobby’s in easy steps and, with any luck, maybe they’d find a motel with a hot tub. Once at Bobby’s, Dean could finish healing and only then would he be allowed to work on the Impala. Well, it would go that way if Sam had anything to say about it.

The brothers remained quiet as they drove through town and got on the right highway. Sam hadn’t been any more observant to their surroundings while riding in the ambulance than Dean had, so the amount of damage was daunting. Dean was silent as they continued down the road and just when Sam was convinced that his brother was asleep, Dean spoke up.

“That was really a tornado,” Dean stated.

Sam knew what he meant; the whole experience seemed unreal. Ghosts had more to do with their day-to-day life than tornados did. “Yeah.”

There were a few more minutes of silence and then Dean spoke again.

“We’re from Kansas and we survived a tornado,” Dean commented. Sam got a very bad feeling and Dean didn’t disappoint. “Dude, that makes you Dorothy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Why am I Dorothy?”

Dean looked smug at having found a way to get back at Sam for not letting him drive. “You’re the girl.”

Making use of his long arms, Sam draped one across the back of the seat and started playing with the hair at the base of Dean’s neck. It caused Dean to shiver, as it always did.

“Not the last time we made love, I wasn’t,” Sam said in a husky voice. “Or the time before that or the time before that.”

“Dude, you got the hair for pigtails,” Dean leaned into Sam’s hand, eyes drooping. “Give it up; you’re so Dorothy it’s not even funny.”

Sam waited just long enough for Dean to begin to think he’d won. “If I’m Dorothy, that makes you Toto.”

Dean thought about it, yawning hugely before he spoke. “If memory serves me right, Toto was the smart one who always figured things out and hauled Dorothy’s ass out of trouble. I’m totally Toto.”

“Toto was a yippy little dog,” Sam retorted. “Emphasis on little and he probably humped everybody’s leg as soon as the camera was off him.”

There was no response and when Sam spared a glance to check on Dean, he found him fast asleep. Sam smiled in fond exasperation. For all of his bravado, Dean was far from healed. Sam’s bruises twinged, reminding the younger Winchester that he wasn’t exactly 100% either. They’d get a couple of hours down the road and then stop for the night, leaving Bloomington-Normal and tornados behind them.

But Sam kept a wary eye on the weather the entire time.

~the end~


End file.
